


We need to talk about Milo

by xNovilunium



Series: Milo's story [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 19:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18146543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xNovilunium/pseuds/xNovilunium
Summary: He wanted to be that same happy little boy he had been. His mother leaving them had planted that seed of despair in his heart, it had grown with his father beating him and treating him like shit for years, pressuring him into becoming someone he didn’t want to, and had bloomed with Damien.





	We need to talk about Milo

“You haven’t touched your plate, sweetie,” Maeva said, fingers dancing on his hand. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“You’ve barely eaten anything today. Try please.” 

“No I… I need some fresh air.” 

Without a single glance at the girls, Milo stood up, put his boots and coat on and left. He had too many things on his mind and couldn’t bear seeing Adeline’s sad eyes anymore. Her brother had been judged today, he wouldn’t be a free man before at least fifteen years. 

Hands in his pockets, Milo walked without a destination in mind. He needed to walk, needed to feel the cold wind on his face, needed to feel it freeze his tears before they’d fall. He needed to be far away from them, for a while, until he would feel confident enough to talk to Adeline. He needed to apologize to her, even though they kept telling him he shouldn’t blame himself. Some things were just easier said than done. Milo was an only child, he could only imagine her pain, how hurt she must be by that verdict. 

She had been so strong this afternoon when they took him, so strong despite her trembling lips and tears in her eyes. A mix of sadness and rage. Towards him or her brother, Milo couldn’t tell it. His mind had told him all of this rage was for him, but the way Adeline had hugged him when they’d left the courthouse had showed him the contrary. It wasn’t rage in her voice when she had whispered how sorry she was. For everything Damien had done to him, for every hurtful word she had said, for not being the friend he needed at that time. It wasn’t rage that had made her cry. But a part of himself didn’t want to see it. 

His legs took him to the city centre. The streets were still full of people despite most shops being now closed. Groups of friends chatting and laughing together, none wishing to go home. People walking their dog, most being in a hurry because of the cold wind. And people like him, walking fast without paying attention to their surroundings or where they were going. Milo didn’t apologise when he bumped into someone, he didn’t care. 

He stopped in a convenience store, luckily still open, and left with a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of tequila. His own way of dealing with problems. Ignore them until they would be too much to bear and then maybe, maybe he would seek help. Go see that therapist Maeva had talked about, speak to her about all the things that were bothering him. The nightmares, the scars on his body, his feeling of being a burden to all of his friends, his fear of going back to school because people would talk. Milo needed to talk about it, he knew it very well. He just didn’t want to let go of the comfort that pain gave him. What would he become without it? Who was he before that Halloween party? A young boy uncomfortable with himself, forced to obey to his father’s every wish. A young boy who already had wanted to put an end to his miserable life. 

He reached the parc he and Maeva used to go playing when they were kids after what seemed to be hours for him. He sat on a swing, put the bottle on the ground and lit a cigarette, swaying gently in rhythm with the wind. His father’s house was close to here. If Milo was lucky, he would even see him drive past the parc. What would his father think of him if he saw him like that? Would he tell him he got what he deserved? That people like him only deserved to be raped and killed? Or would he for once in his life take his role as a father seriously? Milo couldn’t remember when was the last time he had shared a hug with him, nor when was the last time they’d laughed together speaking about the latest handball match. 

Milo wanted to go back to that time when they were all happy. He wanted to go home and see his mother had already prepared his after-school snack, like she had always done when he was little. He wanted to hear her ask him how school was, when would he bring a friend home. He wanted to smell her perfume, wanted to feel her hug him. He wanted to go home to a happy family, with his mother and father loving each other. 

He wanted to be that same happy little boy he had been. His mother leaving them had planted that seed of despair in his heart, it had grown with his father beating him and treating him like shit for years, pressuring him into becoming someone he didn’t want to, and had bloomed with Damien. 

He scratched his arm holding the cigarette as he blew a cloud of smoke. Milo couldn’t get his image out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how Damien had been looking at him during the trial, satisfied to see the effect he still had upon him. Couldn’t forget his eyes burning holes on his back when he had had to tell them what exactly happened. From start to finish. From that day he had woken up, to the party. Couldn’t forget how nauseous he had felt each time Damien had spoken, forcing him to look at him. Forcing him to tell them he’d wanted it. 

Lips on the bottle’s neck, Milo let his tears run down his cheeks. 

* * *

His phone vibrated against his thigh. A text from Maeva, asking him where he was and looking at the time on the top right corner, Milo noticed he had left for almost two hours. It was time to go home, he didn’t want to worry them more than they already were. 

He threw the half-empty bottle in the trash can, put the pack of cigarettes back in his pocket and left the parc. 

Light was still on in the living-room when Milo stopped in front of the door, hand shaking on the knob. Guilt squeezed his throat when he came to the realisation that Maeva had been waiting for him when she should have gone to sleep early tonight. Not only was Milo a burden, but he was such a selfish friend. Maeva needed to rest because of her early classes, and here he was, strolling the streets, drowning his pain in alcohol instead of staying home and talking to them. They would be so much better without him. 

Maeva almost made them both fall on the ground when she hugged him, telling him how glad she was to see him back home. The gesture brought tears to his eyes, but he bit his tongue to not let them fall. She cupped his face, then frowned. 

“You drank, didn’t you?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Milo.” 

“I’m fine, Maeva.” He got rid of her hands on his face and tried to reach the staircase. “I’m going to sleep. Good night.” 

He locked the door behind him, glad Maeva hadn’t followed him. Milo removed his clothes, slowly, one by one before standing in front of the mirror on his wardrobe door. He hated that mirror. Hated how he’d been forced to watch everything he had done to him through that mirror. He hated the young man he was seeing right now. 

The bruises on his throat had now a yellow shade, but the cuts on his forearms and thighs had different shades of red. Some were still bleeding as he had kept scratching his forearms earlier. Some he wanted to open again, make the wounds deeper. He hated them so much, but he needed that pain. 

The cup on his bedside table landed against the mirror, falling in dozens of pieces on the floor. He fell on his bed, arms around his body, nails dug into his skin, and screamed into a pillow. He wouldn’t let go of the pain. No matter what his friends would tell him. It was a part of him now, it was his armour. No one would hurt him if he was already hurting so much. 

“Milo, are you okay?” Maeva’s voice sounded so far away, lost in the cacophony of his thoughts. “Open the door, sweetie. Please.” 

“Leave me alone…” He tugged on his hair, hoping it would make the thoughts stop. _Useless. Only good to hurt people._

“Please, let me in. I’m here for you, we both are, you know that.” 

“Get lost!” He grabbed the first thing he found on his bed and threw it against the door. 

He knew Maeva would stop banging on the door and calling his name only when he’d leave his room. But Milo didn’t want her to see him like that, weak and so miserable. He didn’t want her to see his wounds either, there was no need to worry her more. 

He threw more things around his room, broke his alarm clock and his desk lamp, and screamed more. So much more. To the point of breaking his voice. He ignored Maeva pleading him to open the door, ignored her sobs, and his as well. He hated himself for hurting her like that when she only wanted to help him. She shouldn’t bother. He didn’t deserve her kindness. 

Milo left his room when he calmed down, different clothes hiding new cuts. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Maeva grabbed his arm when he walked past her, but he pulled it out of her grasp, wincing. “You and I need to talk. You won’t go away like that.” 

“Leave me alone. Everything’s fine.” 

“You can lie to yourself if you want but that won’t work with me,” She grabbed him again as he put his coat on. “Talk to me please, I just want to help you.” 

His fingers brushed hers as her words played in his head in a loop. He grabbed her forefinger and squeezed it. He only had to say one thing and she would stop worrying about him. One thing and he would finally see an end to his suffering. Just one thing. 

“Piss off.” 

The door slammed. Maeva didn’t follow him. 

* * *

Milo wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings, nor to the barman sending him a judgemental look. His finger followed the brim of his empty glass, eyes focused on the ice cubes. It only was a matter of seconds before it would be full again, bringing a smile on his face. He had lost count of the number of drinks he already had since he stepped in that bar. Two maybe, before a man sat beside him and started to flirt with him, his glass never empty. Milo had let him do, the drunk part of him enjoying the attention. 

He giggled when the man whispered into his ear how pretty he was, a hand moving up his thigh. Milo followed him without thinking when he led him to a free booth, far away from prying eyes. He didn’t even know that man’s name, but Milo didn’t care. He was buying him drinks, helping him to forget. Forget Damien and his hands on him, forget that Maeva was waiting for him at home, forget that he was hurting them. Forget that he was destroying himself. But that was what he wanted, he had no reason to stop. He was just replacing his pain by another kind of pain. First the cuts, now this. 

The man’s hand sneaked under his turtleneck jumper, a cold hand feeling his flat stomach as warm lips pressed against his own. Milo grabbed his collar and opened his mouth, hips moving against his hand. His mind went blank when a hushed moan crossed his lips. He wasn’t in control of his own body anymore, that man could do anything he wanted to him. Milo wouldn’t complain, nor struggle. He would just be a witness of the scene, and he prayed that the next day, he would forget everything that would happen tonight. 

“Let’s go somewhere more private, beautiful.” The man said against his lips, hand squeezing between Milo’s thighs and kissed him again as soon as Milo nodded. 

He groaned when his head met the concrete, legs wrapped around the man’s waist. A shiver ran down his spine, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of the wind – his coat tossed on the ground – or because of the man’s hands on his body. He whispered dirty things to him, told him everything he wanted to do to him, and that what was happening in this alley was only foreplay. Milo’s throat thickened at those words, but he played along. 

Tears choked him when he fell on his knees, hands moving automatically on the man’s buckle. He shouldn’t do that. His own voice was screaming in his head to go home. Go back to the girls where he was safe. Go back home and let them help him. But Milo was stubborn, hurt, and this was his own way of dealing with his pain, no matter what people would think about it. If the cuts weren’t enough to dull the ache in his heart, then he would let people use him. This was the only thing he was good for, after all. He had heard it too many times. 

A hand brought his face closer to the man’s cock. Milo shut his eyes and took him in his mouth, slowly. A single tear ran down his cheek. 

* * *

Maeva checked her phone for the fifth time in the span of three minutes. 02:16am, and Milo still wasn’t back, nor had he answered to her dozens of texts and same number of voicemails. They had looked for him everywhere. Every street, the parc, the centre town, his high school, they even drove past his father’s house hoping they wouldn’t see light in his room. Maeva had feared he would go back to him, for whatever reason. But no matter where they’d looked, there was no trace of him. 

She feared he might do something stupid. That she would wake up to some cops banging on the door, cops who would tell her that a homeless person, a jogger, or anyone had found his body, wrists slashed. The memories of that morning when he had called her, voice shaking and crying, were still as clear as day in her mind. Maeva suspected he had harmed himself this time, though. 

What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t force him to go to therapy, couldn’t force him to talk. It was his decision, but at this rate, maybe she would have no other choice than to drag him there. Milo needed help. Milo deserved a happy life. Full of joy and love. If only she had seen through Damien sooner, if only she hadn’t agreed on bringing him with them that day. Milo would be much better today. 

02:38am. A car stopped in the street, a door slammed and five minutes after, she heard him swear from the other side of the door. She stood up from the chair, her knees creaking in protest, and walked to the front door ready to tell him some home truths. 

She wanted to be angry at him, wanted to tell him how stupid, _stubborn_ he was, but the words got stuck in her throat when she saw him. Milo could barely stand on his two feet, he reeked alcohol, and didn’t dare to look at her. 

“Am home.” He said looking at her feet. 

Maeva sighed. She helped him walk to his room, asking him where he had been, who drove him back home, and if he had any idea of how worried they had been about him. Milo only mumbled, hand shaking in hers as she was holding him tightly by the hip. She let him fall on his bed and started to untie his shoelaces. 

“Where have you been, sweetie?” She asked him again, softer this time. 

“Bar. Drank a lot.” He put an arm over his eyes, and giggled feeling Maeva’s fingers on his naked feet. “Had a lot of fun too.” 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Don’t want to talk.” 

“I just want to help you.” 

“Don’t need help. I’m fine.” 

“For fuck’s sake Milo! Stop being so stubborn!” She tried not to shout to not wake Adeline up, tried to not slam the door of the cupboard. “No one is after a rape, and you clearly aren’t.” 

Milo said nothing. Nor moved. She thought he had fallen asleep, too drunk to carry the conversation on, but as soon as she put her hands on the hem of his jumper, lifting it a little, he swatted at them. 

“Can do it alone. Not a baby.” 

“You’re sure?” She grabbed him by his forearms, helping him sit up, but he winced, almost shouting to her to let him go. She hadn’t grabbed him that tightly. “Show me your arms Milo.” 

“No.” 

“Milo. Your arms.” She tried to lift his sleeve up. 

“I said no!” He pushed her away, then held his arms on his chest, eyes wet with tears. “Get out.” 

“Sweetie…” 

“Get out!” 

She knew she should stay with him, knew she shouldn’t listen to him and go back to Adeline. But she did it anyway. Milo wasn’t fit to talk right now. 

His sobs broke her heart as she closed the door behind her. 

* * *

He moved his hand up and down Mr. Koala’s back, staring into nothing. His right arm under his head was numb, his hip ached, and he didn’t have the strength to pick up all his plushies that had fallen on the floor, or rather the ones he has thrown across the room earlier. Maeva had tried to talk to him before leaving for her classes. And like the night he had come home completely wasted, she had tried to talk to him. As stubborn as he was, and because he didn’t want to worry her with more problems, he had pushed her away. She and Adeline had other things to worry about. He wouldn’t be a problem for them anymore soon. 

Two knocks on the door. Milo hid himself under the blanket and grumbled to whoever was disturbing him to fuck off. 

“My God, it stinks in here!” Kai held his nose as he walked to the window. There, he drew the curtains, opened the window, and took a big breath of fresh air. “There’s nothing better than a cold November afternoon. Come on sleepyhead!” He pulled on the blanket. Milo shouted other nice words to him. “Nice way to welcome a friend, ass.” 

“What the fuck do you want?!” He tried to take his blanket back, but quickly gave up. He was such a weakling compared to Kai. 

“See how you’re doing, lessons, homework. Ring a bell?” 

“You shouldn’t have bothered. I won’t come back.” Milo brought his knees to his chest and rubbed his arms. 

“Excuse me? You want to drop out of school? Are you nuts or what?” 

“I won’t need a diploma where I’ll go.” He said, eyes fixed on the floor. 

“Okayyyyy. I give you half an hour,” Kai started as he dropped the blanket on the floor, then emptied his schoolbag on his desk, “and then you meet me downstairs.” 

“What?” 

“Half an hour. If you take more, I swear I’ll drag you there by the scruff of your neck.” 

Milo couldn’t take his eyes off the door when Kai left the room. Eyebrows raised, he blinked a few times before leaving his bed after he weighed up the pros and cons. Kai was one of the nicest people he knew, but also the quickest one to lose his temper. Milo had no idea what he had in store for him, but he knew better than anyone else that it never ended well if Kai had to wait. 

* * *

They walked side by side in silence. Milo didn’t like that, but he couldn’t deny the fact that feeling the cold wind on his face felt good, making him almost sleepy. Kai hadn’t told him where they were going and didn’t seem to want to talk right now either. He seemed pissed. Because of him. First the girls, now him. 

He followed him to the parc. A few children on their way back from school were playing, supervised by their mother, or grandfather. They were laughing, shouting to the adults to look at them as they slid down the slide. The sound of their laughter tugged at Milo’s heart strings. He too was once a happy child. But that child was dead long ago. 

Kai led him to a free swing. He pushed him gently, waiting for the kid beside them to leave. 

“So,” He winded the chains of the swing, and spun like a top when he released them. “Mind telling me what’s going on in your little head?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Stop lying Milo. Just for once tell us the truth.” 

“I can handle it alone.” 

“Yeah sure. By getting yourself wasted beyond reason and spending nights in bars or who knows where.” 

“Maeva told you.” 

“Of course she told me!” He crouched before him, hands on Milo’s knees. “We’re all worried about you. Me, Ethan, Adeline, Maeva, Akela, even the ones who didn’t know you before that party are worrying about you. You’re not alone buddy, but if you don’t talk to us, we can’t help you.” 

Milo snorted. “More people I disappointed.” 

“That’s not true. Look,” He cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at him. “I know you’re hurt, and I know you’re doing stupid things to distract your mind from that pain.” 

“I’m not.” 

Kai made a face, one that said ‘bitch please’. “Just like that time I found you locked in the toilet during lunch break and when you came out you were holding your compass.” 

“You haven’t told Maeva, have you?” 

“I kept my promise.” Kai sat on the ground and grabbed Milo’s gloved hands. “I know what you can do when you’re in that state and I don’t like where all of this is leading. You really should go see that therapist.” 

“I plan to. Didn’t find the courage yet.” 

“You promise?” 

Milo looked at their hands and nodded. He squeezed Kai’s coat when he hugged him and closed his eyes, a single tear rolling on his cold cheek. He had made up his mind since long ago.


End file.
